


Shorn

by Sketch_A_Bow



Series: Hobbit Hair Tales [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Being an honorary dwarf can be confusing, Dwarven hair traditions, Emotionally Constipated Thorin, F/M, Female Bilbo, Majestic Thorin, Poor Dwalin, Sassy Bilbo, Thorin McBroodypants, especially when nobody explains anything, hair cutting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 19:03:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1277488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sketch_A_Bow/pseuds/Sketch_A_Bow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hobbit hair is annoying stuff when it's let go wild, and it's not like a barber shop is just going to appear in the middle of the woods. So Bella decides to just cut it herself. And then Thorin loses his emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoy it when Bilbo is a girl, and I downright love it when she unintentionally frustrates Thorin and sends him into emotional hysterics at every turn.

            “Sometimes, I cannot even understand the things you do! Why you would dishonor yourself in such a way, and _voluntarily,_ no less, is beyond my fathoming. Deliberately, behind the entire Company’s back. Did you think you did something that justified taking this action?” Finally pausing for breath, Thorin froze stock still, his back facing to her.

 

              Oh and thank goodness. She had begun to wonder if he would just keep yelling until his body had no more air to supply and he just suffocated. What a sight that would be. She jerked back to the present as Thorin whipped around so fast that it made her dizzy. His face was mere inches from hers, and his eyes were huge.

 

                “Did you…” he reached a massive hand up, fingering a tuft of her hair. “You didn’t do this because I made you feel that you dishonored the Company by being a burden, did you?”

 

                She really shouldn’t of laughed. But today had already been so bizarre, and her head felt so light that it made her giddy. The affronted look upon Thorin ‘King Under the Mountain’ Oakenshield’s face only made it all worse. She might have choked out something that sounded like, “not so majestic now” and it may or may not have caused the Durin brothers to start snorting into each other’s shoulders.

 

               Confused and angry and guilty enough for a few hours brooding, Thorin stalked off into the woods to do just that.

 

 

                When she finally managed to stop laughing, Bella sat up and went to help Bombur make dinner. But of course everyone kept staring at her, and then looking anywhere else as soon as she looked at them. Eventually not even the imminent promise of a meal could calm her, and huffing loudly, she turned and made a beeline for Dwalin. The poor warrior was gone before he could even realize the threat.

 

                He followed her obediently into the woods, even though he could have tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of feathers and went back to camp. She felt perhaps a bit too proud of this fact, but that was a matter for another time. Turning on him suddenly, she pounced without giving him time to deflect and get off track.

 

                “Okay, I get the general feeling that chopping my hair off was a bad move. Why?”

 

                Dwalin just glared at her from under his bushy eyebrows. She huffed and rolled her eyes, and then stamped her foot, staring him down.

 

                Finally, with a groan, Dwalin crumbled. “Ach, lass, why couldn’t you just leave it well enough alone? Was it really so bad that you had to go and _massacre_ yer head?”

 

                “Yes.” She replied immediately. “You can talk, but you weren’t the one with a bird’s nest attached to your scalp. I _tried_ to brush it. It was full of tangles and twigs and leaves, hobbits have incredibly curly and ornery hair in the first place, it was the only option.”

 

                “Oh, yes, well, I suppose it’s all grand fer you, now we all get to deal with an emotionally wounded leader because you had to go and cut your hair!” Dwalin’s snarky side was beginning to show. “It’s a bit late to tell you now, but the cutting of a dwarf’s hair or beard by another is a sign of punishment for crime of the highest treason, and is a mark upon their honor. One does it voluntarily only out of desertion or mourning.”

 

                “Okay, wonderful, but I’m not a dwarf!” Bella gripped her short curls in frustration. “Why should Thorin care? Why should anyone care? Why does it even matter? I have nobody to leave, at least not anyone that’s not already disowned me for being odd! None of them will ever have me back after this whole affair, whether I deserted them or not. It’s not like I can make it any worse, for Yavanna’s sake.”

 

                “Oh, but you can!” Dwalin was full on roaring now, but it hardly fazed her at this point. She had seen the huge warrior with his hand stuck in a cookie jar, it was hard to work back up to ‘fearful’ after that. Bella looked on as he turned a fascinating shade of purple, his mouth screwed shut in some internal battle for control. Whatever side his mouth was on, lost. Words began pouring out, the most she had ever heard the stoic dwarf speak at once. So caught up on that fact was she that it took a moment to process what the words actually were.

 

                “It can be worse because you are a dwarf and this company is your family and cutting your hair like that is the most violent way to say that you are ashamed of us and choose to not be a part of the group even after everything we’ve all gone through and nobody knows how to act around you now and you're just walking about like everything is fine and no big deal so they are trying to understand and not be hurt but that’s the only reaction they can come up with and it hurts Thorin especially because he lerr…. Cares about ye.” The torrential rant cut off as Dwalin mashed his lips together, and Bella rocked back slightly on her heels, eyes wide.

 

                “Just.” He breathed. “Just try and remember now that the things you do affect others, I beg of ye.” He turned and crashed back through the trees, letting his anger out in the exaggerated stomping. Talking about feelings always did make him frustrated. Bella startled slightly as she realized that she even knew that. Life had crept up on her in these past months, just like her hair, and she had shorn it all to bits without even realizing what she was doing. Sighing deeply, she began to walk aimlessly, letting her mind try and wrestle everything into order.

 

                She didn’t even realize her furry feet had led her back to the stream until she ran into Thorin. Literally. Bella would have tripped over him where he was knelt on the ground, if not for the fact that even kneeling he still came up to her chest. Stumbling slightly, she caught herself on a nearby tree and looked down in surprise to where he was guiltily stuffing his pocket with… hair? Her hair.

 

 

                She had left it on the ground after she had cut it all off with the small dagger Nori had leant her some miles back, assuming that maybe some creatures would collect it for their winter nests. A dwarf was not the creature she had in mind.

 

                Her humor really did have the worst timing, and Bella only managed to stop gasping long enough to grab Thorin’s sleeve, pulling him back onto the ground before he could storm from the clearing. He sat stiffly and glowered at her until her giggles subsided. Laying back on the ground, she looked at him sidelong, letting her eyes travel along the honey colored hairs still hanging from his pocket. She deadpanned, “If you were so fond of my hair Thorin, you could have just asked. I’m sure me and the boys could have put together a fine wig for you.”

 

                He tried valiantly to remain stony, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Bella smiled gently, tugging on his sleeve. “Truly though, I am sorry. I did not realize it meant so much to you. I was unaware of the implications, I just knew that my hair was a great mess. I should have asked for someone to untangle it instead of taking such drastic action. Bella grinned. "Do you know, I always was one for dramatic actions though.”

 

                “No, I am the one who should be apologizing. I should not have reacted so, you had no reason to abide by our customs, and I have no right to ask anything of you after all that I have put you through.”

 

                His face went right back to the ‘Majestic shocked’ look when she cuffed him upside the head. She thought she could get rather fond of that look, and decided then and there that her new goal was to earn that face as often as possible.

 

                “You’re a fool, and I’m starving, so I suggest we go and see if the rest of them left us any food. I have quite a few family members to apologize to anyway.”

 

 

                It was several days later and everyone was lulled to quiet in the midday heat. Fili and Kili had been chatting (bothering) Bella at the back of the group, and she groaned as Kili got his trademark ‘thoughtful’ look. The look that meant he was about to say or do something incredibly dense.

 

                “Thorin!” he hollered at his uncle, who was leading the group. Once Kili was satisfied that he had their leader’s attention, he leaned over and patted Bella on the head. “You know, I actually think I quite like her hair this way. It looks cute!”

 

                Bella growled menacingly at the younger dwarf and shooed his hand away. Shaking his head, Thorin only replied, “Enjoy it while you can then, because it won’t be that short ever again.”

 

                 “And why is that?” Bella squeaked indignantly.

 

     Dwalin barked back, “Because it’s against customs!” 

 

                “Oh, for Mahal’s-“ She huffed. “For the last time, I’m not a dwarf, I’m a hobbit!”

 

                “Not anymore you’re not,” Kili crowed gleefully. He beamed as Fili leaned in conspiratorially, and she thought she heard something about 'fake beards' and 'shoes'.

 

                Grumbling quietly to herself, Bella let the argument subside. Fine, let them make their plans. They couldn’t watch her all hours of the day, after all. She was patient, she could wait.

 

 

~~Finis~~

 


	2. Growth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the battle, Bella has a lot of things to work through, and her hair is the last thing on the list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got a request from someone to write a follow up chapter for this fic. I'm sure this is something a lot of you would be interested in, and I'm reasonably sure you would expect another heartfelt, humorous chapter. So of course I had to make it sad and angsty and not at all frolicking-through-the-woods happy like the last one. Enjoy!

     

     Stumbling slowly over the mud and blood swamped terrain, Bella tried to ignore the macabre bodies of the slain surrounding her. The battle had been timeless, a torrent of fear and adrenaline, and now that it was over she felt nothing but pain and weariness. Her bones were stone, her tiny sword leaden on her hip. The sounds of survivors stirred in her ears, but she continued her slow pilgrimage towards the forest. Among the victors was not her place. Thorin had thrown her out, and the best option left to her was a long struggle back to the Shire. But for now, the woods were a monumental enough goal.

 

 

     A long sigh whistled out of her chest as Bella half fell into the small brook. The water felt cool and soothing on her cuts, and she drank what she could without moving. She fell asleep in the cool water, and when she woke the sunlight was filtering warmly through the canopy. Struggling to sit upright, Bella slowly shrugged off her ‘armor’ and clothes, rinsing them and laying it all out on the grass to dry. Then she hauled herself out of the water to do the same. Leaning back over the bank to sip the water, she startled at her reflection.

 

     Despite half a day spent in the water, Bella still looked rather terrible. Her face was scuffed up; she had a fantastic bruise that covered the entire right side from temple to jaw. Her hair had grown exponentially since she had cut it during their journey, and now held its weight in mud and gore.  She smiled sadly at the memory of the upset she had caused, and snuffled. Whatever she had found on that trip, it was gone. She had no family left. Feeling suddenly and entirely restless, Bella reached back for Sting. Holding her reflection’s gaze resolutely, she began to slowly saw at her hair, the sharp blade doing its job well.

 

     It was not nearly so nice of a cut as before, but she was not nearly the person she was then either. The spiky misshapen mess seemed fitting. Deciding her clothes were as dry as they were going to get, Bella quickly redressed and fled further into the trees, desperate to put some miles between her and the future she had lost.

 

 

 

     She had meant to growl in frustration, but it came out sounding more like the groan of pain she was fighting against. It was typical luck that the healing plants she knew did not grow here, that not much of anything grew beneath the choking canopy of the ancient oaks that had stretched on for days. Bells did not know how long she had been traveling, nor what direction she was headed. Her plan had been to gather healing herbs, food, and water as she traveled, but she had only succeeded in finding one of the three things she needed. Now she was tired, hungry, and her wounds hurt terribly. She was almost sure the large cut on her back was infected, but she could not see it to be sure. But as bleak as the situation looked, moving forward was much more attractive a plan than laying down and admitting defeat. Stubbornness was in her blood, and it wouldn’t do to give up when food or help was just a ways further along.

 

     When her legs refused to move anymore, Bella dragged herself a few feet more until she found a nook in the roots of an oak that fit her frail body nicely. She didn’t feel very upset at her predicament, but that was what hunger did to a person, she supposed. The pain of her various wounds had joined together into a distant dull throbbing, and her stomach no longer cried out for nourishment. Quieting her mind, Bella took Sting from its sheath and rested t across her lap, admiring its beauty and the memories it held as the world gradually darkened around her.

 

 

                The waking was so much more painful than the fading was, and if she had been coherent enough, Bella would have laughed at the cruel irony of it. Pain was the first to return, burning punches of fire that she couldn’t escape. Her eyes refused to open, and she felt she understood why Bifur was never the same after his accident. When she could finally see the world around her, it was unfocused and too-bright, colors and sound melting together and making her dizzy. Later Bella would discover that she spent a large amount of that time crying, screaming and lashing out at imagined foes and then crying again as she tore her wounds open. It had taken four dwarves to hold her down and restrain her on the bed, and Oin had banished everyone from the room.

 

                Coming back was easier after that. She still panicked, but being unable to move eventually calmed her. The noise was gone and the fire was banked so that her eyes could adjust slowly. Within a week she was able to have free reign of her bed once more, and a few days later Oin finally allowed the option of visitors. Not that anyone would visit her. Bella was fighting against the guilt of forcing them to take her back in, spend time and resources to nurse her, and she wondered when they would deem her well enough to kick her out again. She would love to leave as soon as possible, before someone could accuse her of disobeying Thorin’s ruling, but she was just so _thin_ feeling. As if a gust of wind could blow her away. It was hard to imagine how she would get across the mountains in the winter, when her last attempt had gone so poorly. Perhaps the elves would host her for a time, and she could make the journey in stages.

 

                Thoughts of travel were scattered from her mind as the door slowly opened. A familiar mane of brown hair appeared around the door, and Bella tried to shrink back into the pillows. Maybe he had just happened upon the wrong room, and he wouldn’t notice her. Or maybe he was here to tell her that they couldn’t waste precious winter stores on a traitor. If she was lucky, Oin might be able to steal a cloak for her, he seemed to still receive her kindly. She wished fervently for her ring, but she didn’t know where her things had been put.

 

     But when Thorin appeared fully in the room, his face wasn’t stormy and his posture aggressive, like Bella had anticipated. He looked frail too, and she wondered how the battle had gone for him. The last sight of him she had caught was after Azog had felled him, Fili and Kili coming to his aid and vanquishing the pale orc together, as they did all things. It had been a close fight though, and it had been that moment of horror that had distracted her long enough for a goblin to deliver the terrible slice to her back. Luckily the evil forces had fled quickly after their leader’s demise; otherwise it was unlikely she would have risen from the battlefield at all.

 

 

      Thorin watched Bella carefully from the doorway while she held court in her mind, afraid to move for fear of startling her. She had looked so terrified when he had first entered, and the guilt churning within him made it hard to stand. Pain had washed the gold sickness from his mind, washed everything from his mind until it was all he could feel, and then even that fled in the void. He had been away from the world for two weeks, and when he woke it was to a makeshift sickroom, and he wasn’t alone. A thin rag of a hobbit lay in the bed across the room from him, and before he could even utter a word he received death glares from every company member within range. They circled her bed protectively, unconsciously, and Thorin knew that he would not be able to move her from Erebor even if he wanted.

 

     It was the last thing he wanted to do, in truth. Looking at her, at what he had caused with his greed hurt more than the fact that the same greed had almost cost him his kingdom. That he had failed her loomed over the failure to his people. He had done right by them, but when had he ever done right by this selfless creature? She had offered everything she had, simply because she could and she felt it was right, and he had thrown it back in her face and more, for cold coins. Nothing ate at his soul like the sight of her hair though. Mahal, that had cut him to the core. They had been family, connected on a level of voicless understanding and love, and his actions had wounded someone he held dear. If he had been able, Thorin would have cut his own hair, but the others were too smart, and he was bedridden. Dwalin, Fili, and Kili had come in one night and forced him to listen to them, and he had struck a deal to wait and hear Bella’s reasoning before taking any drastic action.

 

     Thorin was sure however. She fully knew the customs, and had knowingly acted in such a way. He would bare the marks against himself openly, for it was only the very least and beginning of what he must do to try and recover what had been so foolishly tossed away. Looking at her now, he felt all of his determination resurface. Moving slow and purposefully, he made his way to the bed. Bella shrank back further into the pillows. She still looked so thin… Kneeling beside the bed, Thorin bowed his head and removed the dagger from his belt. The fear in her eyes made his stomach roil. Placing the blade gently upon her lap, he took a segment of hair and held it up expectantly. Stillness reigned.

 

          “Thorin.” Bella’s voice was as spare as her body. “I know you were never the best at explaining things, but this might be a new record. I gather that you’re not here to kick me out, or kill me, but what exactly are we doing, if not that?”

 

          “I’m giving you the fair retribution you deserve,” he replied solemnly. “What I did was unforgivable and worthy of the highest punishment. My hair shall be cut to show the world my crimes, and I will resign my kingdom to you and live in exile for the rest of my days. This is the sentence for one as dishonorable as I.”

 

     Since he had his head bowed and eyes closed, Thorin wasn’t prepared for the flat side of the blade smacking him in the head; he went sprawling backwards onto the stone floor. Bella smirked weakly at the startled look plastered across his face. “Thorin Oakenshield, you really are a fool. What makes you think I want your kingdom?” He tried to interrupt, but she continued. “A whole mountain to rule, full of big burly strangers with lots of sharp weapons? What a frightful idea. I’m sure they wouldn’t do with a hobbit as their leader.”

 

          “You may do with it as you wish then. Turn it over to whomever you desire, take as much of the gold as you like, and return home if that is your wont. It is your choice, as Queen of Erebor. And if you do not wish to take your retribution personally, you may also arrange for a public shaming, it is well within your rights.”

 

     Bella just sighed. “Very well then. Who do I need to speak to about making all these arrangements, Balin?”

 

          “Yes, and a few others. I will go and gather them, my Grace.”

 

     She made a faint sound of disgust as Thorin rose from the floor and left the room. It was only a few short hours later when a veritable swarm of dwarven officials had been gathered in the small room, all looking rather as exasperated with their former leader as Bella felt.

 

     Balin sighed long-sufferingly as he ushered Ori along behind him. “I want you to take down everything the Queen decrees, so that her wishes may be carried out succinctly,” he told the scribe, as Bella made a sour face at him. Shifting about in her nest of pillows, she cleared her throat and began.

 

          “As atonement for his most grievous crimes against me, Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, of the Line Durin and King under the Mountain, has offered himself up for the cutting of his hair and exile of his persons from all known and future dwarven strongholds, as well as resigning the ruling and title of his kingdom to me.” She stopped for a breath. “Goodness, no wonder politics always take so long and leave all involved in irritable disposition. All this stuffy wording is wearing me out.”

 

     Thorin tried to interject, most likely to suggest postponing the entire affair in favor of her health, but she waved him off and he obediently stepped back. Bella would have preferred him go back to being stubborn and arrogant.

 

          “As the now acting Queen Under the Mountain, I wish to turn the ruling of the kingdom over to a dwarf of my choosing. I will name this persons my living heir, and they will take over as ruler. I would like this to happen as soon as possible, and I would like there to be as little fanfare of the changing of title from Thorin to myself, if it is at all possible.” Bella looked to Balin for an answer.

 

     Coughing, the older dwarf looked at the others gathered around him and stated carefully, “Well your Grace, that would depend upon who you are naming. All of this will of course have to be relayed to the people, and it shall be done in whatever way best explains the exchange of power. If you were to name Fili, for instance, it would be simple to eliminate your part in the matter as Queen, we can arrange it to seem that Thorin renounced his claim upon the throne to his closest heir.”

 

         “Well, I certainly don’t mean to turn the place over to Fili or his brother just yet.” Bella said with a snort. Balin couldn’t quite hide his look of relief. “No, I imagine my choice will make it quite easy on the lot of you, though the person of choice will certainly not be happy. I name Thorin Oakenshield as my chosen heir, to take the throne, title, and all that it encompasses. As such, there will be no shaming of exile, public or otherwise. The people must have solidarity in these times of turmoil, and Thorin is more than capable of being that, now as in many times before”

 

     Balin smiled at her with a twinkle in his eye, and a few of the other officials couldn’t help but look impressed. With a certain amount of effort, Bella avoided glancing to the side at the surely spectacular face Thorin was making, and continued on as if she had only been talking about supper. “As for the rest of it, I request that I be able to take directly from the main coffers as needed, and that a suite of my choosing be set up as my living quarters. I’ve had quite enough traveling, and I fully intend to stay where I am.” She let out a huge sigh. “That’s all then I suppose; I’m sure if I need to arrange anything else, I can speak to you Balin, without all this fuss.”

 

          “Of course your Grace,” he said with a bow, and a chuckle at Bella’s glare. “I’ll have to inform the rest of the Company of your decision to stay, they’ll be delighted. Expect a feast of epic proportions.”

 

          “Balin, if you tell them so much as a word about this entire nonsensical affair, we will be having quite the discussion.”

 

          "I’ll keep that in mind, your Grace”

 

          “I’m never living this down.” Putting her annoyance aside for the moment, Bella watched in silence as everyone paraded out of the room, waiting patiently for what she knew was coming. Balin had barely shut the door when she turned to where Thorin was still standing. If she was creative, she’d say his face was the color of a smashed turnip. It was hard to determine what expression would dominate his face, and she decided to intervene before they could all explode out at once.

 

          “Thorin, I know you are just trying to do your best by me, and atone for the things you did. I appreciate and understand that. But I’m just a hobbit. We’re simple creatures. I have no desire for a kingdom, or gold, or titles. You gave me the power of choice, and that is something far greater than I think you understand. You gave me that, and I made the choices I wanted to. You can stop beating yourself up over everything, I’m fine.”

 

          “Why’d you cut it?”

 

          "What?”

 

     Thorin looked up at her, and sadness and guilt had won out upon his brows. “Why did you cut your hair? It was my fault, wasn’t it? Tell me that’s a lie.”

 

     Bella sat in the bed, her hands grasping each other so tight it left red marks. Thorin carefully untangled them, holding one in each of his hands, the difference in size laughable. “That I caused those feelings in you, those actions, that is something I can never atone for.”

 

     She ran her fingers over the scars and callouses on his hands, wondering what stories lay behind them, how many of them were sad ones. “Well,” she said, “If I’m being completely honest, I also did it because it was caked with mud and blood and guck and weighed almost as much as I did.” She looked up at him and wanted sorely to dispel the darkness in his eyes. “Besides, I told you before that I would get around your ruling somehow. It just took a bit of a war to pull it off.”

 

     Thorin’s mouth did lift a fraction at that. “Well I suppose I’ll have to revoke that ruling then, if I don’t want to be going to war constantly. Or rather you could revoke it yourself, your Grace.”

 

     Bella slapped his arm as hard as she could, but he laughed like it was more of a tickle.

 

 

     When Bella was well enough to walk about easily and Oin officially released her from his care, Thorin announced that the Company was throwing a party in her honor, to celebrate her health and partially repay for all the food they ate upon their first meeting. While she tried to act gracious, she couldn’t help but be a bit excited. It was just so _dull_ being stuck in the same room day after day. In fact, she was so distracted looking at everything she could land her eyes on while Thorin escorted her to the party that she didn’t notice the banner until she was right under it. Everyone in attendance cheered, and Bella smiled jovially back at them until she read the words.

 

               'Happy Health to Bella, Queen Under the Mountain!'

 

     She cursed Balin under her breath, and made sure to groan or otherwise voice her displeasure every time the title was used that night. Unfortunately, this seemed to delight Fili and Kili to no end, and they made sure to utilize every opportunity. ‘Well and, maybe at least it will be good practice for their manners’, she tried to convince herself, though she knew better.

 

 

 

~~Finis~~

 

 

 


	3. Growth and development

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growth chapter alternative, where Thorin does all his dramatic forgiving in a letter, leaving it for Bilbo to read upon her awakening and fleeing the mountain. And doesn’t Bella just hate it when people make her decisions for her? 
> 
> Regardless of that though, she was always good at cleaning up the messes of others.

     …Thoughts of travel were scattered from her mind as the door slowly opened. A familiar mane of brown hair appeared around the door, and Bella tried to shrink back into the pillows. Maybe he had just happened upon the wrong room, and he wouldn’t notice her. Or maybe he was here to tell her that they couldn’t waste precious winter stores on a traitor. If she was lucky, Oin might be able to steal a cloak for her, he seemed to still receive her kindly. She wished fervently for her ring, but she didn’t know where her things had been put.

 

     Thinking of the next best option, Bella snuggled down into the bed linens and tried her very hardest to assume the air of sleep. Because it was a universal rule to not wake someone so you can banish them? It was a childish notion, but it was what little defence she had left.

 

     Also, apparently, it worked. Bella kept her eyes resolutely closed as she felt Thorin move to stand beside her bed. He remained for a time, a vague presence near Bella’s head, and she very nearly broke character, assuming he was waiting her out. But instead she heard a bit of rustling, and then the sound of the door closing. She managed to hold for a few moments more before curiosity overcame her. Looking over to the bedside table, Bella saw a thick, creamy envelope placed neatly next to the water pitcher.

 

     She tried to not let incredulity overcome her. She really did. But was that really some dwarven code? Did they _seriously_ put that much stock in the importance of sleep? I mean, she knew that they were strange, and that often times their customs made no sense, (ex. Hair cutting), but this was really a bit out of hand.

 

     Bella huffed to herself. Well, if they expected her to read her own banishment sentence and just be trusted to act upon it, they had another thing coming. Settling back into the pillows, she resolutely ignored the paper, thinking instead that it felt like a fine time for a nap. Whoever came in next could open it and read it to her, and make her leave if they wished. Otherwise, she would continue to ignore it until she felt well enough to travel, and then she could boot herself out when she was ready.

 

 

 

     Even with the widespread amount of panic, it took 4 days of searching before anyone thought to check Bella’s rooms for the missing King. This was in part due to the fact that besides the company, nobody really did pay the bedridden Halfling any mind, and the company had overlooked her rooms as well in their general panic. It also did not help that nobody knew she was allowed visitors, because apparently Oin had only told Thorin that she was well enough to receive guests, a pointed remark that the King needed to go and make his apologies. He did feel very sheepish about it after all the facts had been sorted out, and as one the company set off towards Bella’s chambers.

 

 

     Though not much sunlight could make it through the thin window, it was still the most Bella had seen in weeks, and she was determined to enjoy it. It was good that being ill had slowed her reflexes, else she might have fallen out of the chair that it had taken her a good hour to maneuver into so that she could soak up said view. As it was, she simply looked on in growing shock as a great number of dwarves crammed into her room. The entire company, in fact, except for one…

 

     Bella shook her head to clear it. That didn’t bear thinking on right now. “And what is this then, if you don’t mind my asking? Did Thorin think it necessary to send the entire lot of you to kick me out? I’ll take the compliment, but it’s hardly necessary. I’m fairly certain a newborn babe could best me in a fight at the moment.”

 

          “Have you seen him then?” Fili asked breathlessly, looking scared but hopeful.  A sea of faces crowded in behind him sporting similar expressions.

 

          “Seen who? Thorin?” The change in expressions told her she was on the right path. “Well, I did about a week ago perhaps.”

 

          “What did he say?!” Kili was almost shouting in his excitement. Bella’s eyes widened.

 

     “Well, erm…” she ducked her head sheepishly, not wanting to admit how childish she had behaved. “We didn’t exactly speak.” Realizing that that statement didn’t sound much better, Bella quickly rushed on. “He just left me a letter, I haven’t gotten around to opening it yet…” There wasn’t any time to say anything more as Dwalin, who was closest to the back, all but leapt upon the envelope.

 

     There was time to hope that the envelope didn’t contain anything too personal as it was unceremoniously ripped open and read by everyone close enough to see the tiny, sloppy handwriting.  

 

 

 

     The fortunate thing was that shoving a dozen dwarves into a small bedchamber meant that there wasn’t much room left for chaos. Bella was glad to have the definite space of her wooden armchair as her companions fell to clamoring around her, all of them pushing to read the letter and proclaim their opinions.

 

          “What, how could he-“

 

          “How did he even manage to get all the proper signatures and documentation?”

 

          “But where’s he gone then?”

 

          “He didn’t even tell any of us”

 

          “Fool of a dwarf, Dis is going to have his head for this…”

 

 

     Bella just sighed long-sufferingly. Gathering herself, she shouted as loud as she could. “Would someone mind telling me just WHAT is going on?!”

 

     The entire room fell to stillness. Bofur scuffed his boot awkwardly on the floor, a blush painting his cheeks. “Well, that is, lass…” Bella stared him down, knowing already in her heart what the note said. It made her feel better to know that the rest of the Company opposed her exile, but the fact remained that Thorin was a king, and his rule was absolute. The best they could do was kick her out kindly.

 

     Bofur finished in a rush. “Thorin has named you Queen under the mountain and sentenced himself to exile.”

 

 

          “WHAT?!”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a fourth chapter that concludes this fic divergence, and I may re-format everything once it's all done to make it easier to understand. For now though, I trust all you intelligent folks to be able to fumble through it and enjoy!


	4. Conditioning a Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella is left to proceed over a kingdom just beginning to form, but if ever there was something hobbits excelled at, it was making an omelette out of busted eggs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had meant to finish this fic divergence in a single chapter, but I ended up having too much fun making the dwarves enjoy Bella's ruling. So there will be another chapter, where actual serious plot things will happen. But for now, there is this.

  

     Dwarves had a close enough relationship with bombs and other such explosives. They used them in mining, tunneling, even warfare on occasion. You had to clear well off once they were set out, that was the key. The only problem now was, the, er, bomb… was alive. Luckily, not capable of moving at present. But alive nonetheless. Nobody strayed into the old medical wing where Bella was staying, and when one of Gloin’s workers was sent to deliver her meals three times a day, they crept in like timid mice and fled quickly, fear in their eyes. The new Queen did not speak to anyone for a week, and the Company relied on all their combined skills to keep the change of power hidden. When she passed the official seal of approval for health, Bella left her rooms with an air of determination and fury. Luckily Balin had not been sitting idle in the wake of shocking news, and a Grand Feast had already been prepared in the Ruler of Erebor’s name.

 

 

      Wording had been kept carefully neutral, thanks to Ori, and the celebrations had been called in recognition of the mountain’s life force returning via daily arrivals from all the distant dwarven strongholds. No one was the wiser about the gathering’s true purpose until Fili and Kili (mostly Fili) eloquently dropped the grenade upon the assembled might of the mountain in a single hushed moment.

 

     Of course mayhem broke out almost immediately, as dwarves were fond of a good ruckus; but Bella had improved significantly in her yelling skills since that fateful night of the uninvited guests. Within a few spare moments she had shouted down the assembled nobility, and told them in no uncertain terms that Thorin’s letter would be posted in the public market for all to see the authenticity of.

 

           “I have the unanimous support of the entire original company of Thorin Oakenshield, and his words to back it if you somehow doubt that any of them are of impeccable repute. Believe me when I say that your discontent with my position is outgrown only by my own desire to be elsewhere. However, I have been entrusted a serious task, and I am nothing if not a hobbit of my word. I shall attempt to do my best by this place and its people.”

 

      Bowing her head solemnly, Bella graciously left the event, so that the dwarrow could talk and vent amongst themselves, as she knew they needed to.

 

 

      Despite their best attempts to smooth things over, it was obvious Bella wasn’t a terribly popular choice for  ruler. Dwarves were very slow to forgive, and even though Thorin had only been infuriated for the few small hours between the reveal of treachery and the battle (and his subsequent injury and un-enchanting), he left a very strong impression. Those loyal subjects who were present spread his words of wroth across the kingdom in a flood of distrust.

 

     The more excitable began calling for proof of where Thorin was now, accusing that their good King’s letter had been written under duress, and then disposed of. This stranger had greed beyond count, and had discarded the Arkenstone to the filthy elves only when she had set her sights on higher prizes. The rest of the Company of course were cooperating under threat of a similar fate. Whisperers said that this hobbit must have dark powers, to be so small and hold so much power. Some even dared to say she had been in league with the dragon as well, when they were deep in their cups.

 

     Nori’s spies brought her all of this information, and Dwalin and Gloin wanted to face the accusations with good steel, Bella simply rolled her eyes and continued on. “Words are just words, so long as they stay that way I care not.”

 

     Not all of them stayed in that realm, however. Nori and his network took down at least a dozen assassination attempts in the first month, one being stopped only at the last moment by the spy himself. Bella found she was thanking him on an almost daily basis for keeping her blood under her skin; he was invaluable to her, now more than ever. She tried to tell him so, but flashing her a sly grin, he winked and was gone again. Ori made a rather obvious point to discuss how much his middle brother had enjoyed the mulled wine they drank at her home so long ago, and Bella thanked him with a laugh. She ordered several casks directly from the Shire for him, along with some Old Toby for her own enjoyment.

 

 

     The threats eventually died down, once it became clear that none of them were proving effective. Those who called for Thorin's whereabouts were invited to go out looking for him themselves, and they left off, not keen to go traveling so soon after arriving to the mountain at long last. More new caravans came in every day, and the wine arrived with one of said caravans, carrying a letter from some of her more friendly relations expressing disbelief at her survival and turn of status in life. Apparently it had only taken a wine request from ‘Lady Bella of Hobbiton, Son of Bungo, Ruling Queen of Erebor’ to stoke the whole of the Shire into a tizzy. None of them would actually come to see, of course, but it was a gossip tale for the century. Bella couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed at the prospect. Besides, they had sent extra pipeweed along in their excitement. In fact, by the time she had gotten through her first pipe, an idea had started to form.

 

     And so it was that early the next morning, Bella had dragged Balin out of a political meeting (which earned her many darks looks that went unnoticed)  and laid out to him a fully formed contract for trade with the Shire. The hobbits were generally unaccustomed to doing much trade, and of the trade they did it was almost entirely local. But with a familiar figure heading the kingdom, she was confident they would be willing to agree. Erebor could offer metalworks and jewelry, as smiths were uncommon in the Shire, and the Shire could in return offer them crop seeds to begin working the land leveled by Smaug’s destruction, wine, pipeweed, and other such goods.

 

     The more Bella thought of it, the more enthusiastic she became. The dwarves were of course reluctant to do anything different than what they had done for the past 5 generations, but a  hobbit with a will is not to be denied, and in record time the Queen had express-rolled the trade agreement through the councils and guilds of the mountain. The first shipments of wine and pipeweed arrived with the summer solstice, and while it would never be openly admitted, the goods soon disappeared from the market, and vendors began putting in forward orders for larger shipments. She would pretend to not notice the familiar smell of Longbottom Leaf and Southlinch wafting through the lower halls, or the familiar casks that began popping up empty outside of the miner's feast hall. 

 

     Several bags of seed arrived as well, and Bella elected Kili as head of the new Farmers Guild. Several of the Company, and most of the other Guild Masters reacted to her announcement with dismay and foreboding, but the young prince actually filled into his role rather well. He held more enthusiasm for the job than any of the workers assigned (not such a hard task, as the dwarves collectively loathed it), and it was good for him to be outdoors. After a few mistakes and a few more private lessons from Bella, Kili had the task well in hand. In a fit of his own genius, Kili began charging a small fee in exchange for allowing hunters from Dale access to the fields, which attracted rabbit and deer. Soon he allowed Elvish hunting parties in as well, though Bella suspected this had very much to do with a certain redheaded archer and less to do with improving relations. She would take what she could get though, as it did help. 

 

     Of course the farming had a similar positive turnaround as the Shire goods had, but Bella was willing to be privately smug. While each and every dwarf assigned to the Farmer’s Guild had complained loudly and often at the start, once the fields began producing, they were proud as peacocks of their work, boasting to their families at dinner, other Guild members in the halls, and anyone that would listen in the Dale markets. It also went a long way to soothe Dwarvish egos that Bella negotiated a trade agreement with Thranduil for a share of their crops, at a handsome price. Nevermind the elvish excuses of 'wanting to eat local', the dwarves only cared that the elves were in some small way dependent upon them.

     By the end of the fall, Erebor had seemingly recovered from the great despair of the previous year. Dale was well on it's way to recovering former glory, and trade was returning. Erebor was once again filling with life, and the fields had returned to life as well. They would have enough to last what was promising to be a mild winter, and there was even enough to have a proper Durin's Day Feast in celebration of all they had accomplished. Indeed, Bella was so busy sharing in the pride and success of her people and her own efforts that she quite forgot that she hadn’t wanted to rule.

 

 

 


	5. Stripping a Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter in the fic divergence! I love it when everyone gangs up on Thorin. Poor grumpy majestic fellow.

     

 

     Bella was in a demanding and absorbing position that allowed her to forget how she had felt about this endeavor at the outset, much as she had forgotten how much she had despised adventures just the night before she ran after a lot of fierce dwarves on trundling ponies.  But her tantrum had imparted quite a deeper impression upon the rest of the company. Not to mention, they missed their leader, no matter how idiotic and rock-headed he could be. And it was not Bella’s job to adopt a kingdom that was not even her duty, to take upon her shoulders yet more risk for Thorin’s sake. As Dwalin elegantly put it, their leader had been ‘A great bit git, as usual.’

 

 

     He was not escaping this one so easily though. In between all their new tasks within the wakening kingdom, Fili, Kili, Dwalin, Dori, Bifur, Balin, and Nori did their best to track down the stray king. Already Nori had set up information networks throughout the budding cities, digging up anything he could on a dark and brooding dwarf. It was surprisingly easy to track him – few enough dwarves were actually leaving Erebor at the moment, and Thorin was just majestic enough to leave an impression on all the people he was rude to. Which was apparently half of Dale.

 

          “He’s in a right fit.” Fili said, nodding decisively at the reports pouring in from Nori’s sources.

 

          “Haven’t seen him nearly this bad since he fell off his pony in that hunting championship, do you remember?” Kili added. Fili got a haunted look to his eyes, and shivered.

 

     Behind him, Dwalin coughed to cover his smirk. “Ah, that was a week to savor.”

 

          “Yes, well, if you’re done reminiscing,” Nori butted in dryly, “I might actually know where our royal pain in the arse has sulked off to.”

 

 

 

 

     And if the information didn’t make them all groan collectively.

 

          “What a sappy, cliché Bundushathur.” muttered Dwalin.

 

     Balin just sighed deeply.

 

     Kili actually looked impressed. “How did he even manage to move that fast?”

 

          “Well, he was powered by all his angst, of course,” Fili said solemnly. Kili looked awestruck.

 

 

                Nori had seemingly left contacts all along their journey, which included several in Bree. And they had all reported the same facts, via separate letters. A dark haired and sour looking dwarf clad in blue had been seen quietly entering Bree alone, staying one night, and then continuing into The Shire.

 

                “He didn’t even try to disguise himself!” Nori said. He sounded disappointed that he knew someone so hopeless at espionage.

 

                “Thorin’s just lucky he didn’t get himself captured, or killed,” Dori added darkly.

 

                Dwalin crossed his arms and snorted. “Well, there’s a reason he’s usually emotionally deficient. Thorin’s enough of an idiot without his mind being addled with feelings.”

 

 

 

     Quietly, they tried to arrange a rescue mission without letting the Queen know. They knew she’d want to be involved, and the kingdom needed stability. Kili actually ended up formulating the final plan, arranging for him, Fili, Dwalin, and Balin to leave, under the guise of going to meet their mother and her caravan and safely guide them back to Erebor.

 

     Bella was rather thrown by the information, and seemed immediately nervous about meeting Thorin’s sister. Fili assured her that their mother would be completely understanding of everything, that Bella had nothing to worry over. If anything, she would be angry at her brother for deserting his post and grateful to her for stepping up in his stead. Their burglar didn’t look very convinced. Distracted as she was with this new panic, she showed no suspicion of their motives, but Kili threw in his best puppy eyes and rambled about how much he missed his mother for good effect.

 

 

     Their mother of course hardly needed extra protection, given that she was traveling with a rather large convoy of warriors, craftsmen, and families. Even with the bolstering numbers, travel was no longer such an undertaking. Most of the goblins, orcs, and wargs had fled back to the dark places after their defeat at the Battle, if they made it out alive at all. All in all, it was a rather safe time to be going, if going was required.

 

     And so, their path no longer blocked by every evil in Middle Earth, the small group made good time back across the world to The Shire, and stumbled into quite another adventure altogether.

 

 

 

~     ~     ~     ~     ~

 

 

 

     Luckily Balin remembered how to get to Bella’s smial well enough to guide the group. Not that they needed it for long. As soon as the rounded the corner they could see Bag End, rising up like some great armored tortoise. What looked like wooden stakes had been erected all along the fence line, and the once beautiful flower beds now drooped and ranged beyond their borders. The grass had been let go, sticking up and draping in great clumps. It created an overall effect that the house was alive, and very angry. Cautiously the group tied their ponies to the fence, and Dwalin was just about to open the gate when they were startled by a shout coming up the lane.

 

          “Don’t go in there!”

 

     Dwalin looked over his shoulder to see a rather rotund hobbit trotting up the lane, looking frantic. “Don’t, just leave it be, best to stay away,” the hobbit was rambling, looking sharply at the house windows as if expecting a great beast to come crashing out. He reached out to grab Dwalin’s arm and lead him away, but seemingly thought better of it. Instead, he turned to address Balin. “You’d be better off to not go in there. I don’t know what’s happened to poor Miss Bella, but Bag End houses a madman now.”

 

 

     They had the entire story out soon enough. The Sackville-Bagginses had finally convinced the rest of the Shire that Bella was good and truly dead, and they had been in the process of (rather rudely) auctioning off all her belongings when a riotous dwarf had come flying up the lane, threatening to run people down if they did not make way. He rode his shaggy pony straight into the yard, leapt off its back, and ran full tilt into the house, brandishing sword and axe.

 

     “It was a frightening sight. I’ll never forget it.” the hobbit shook his head vigorously. “It was like one of the old history sagas come to life in our very midst.”

 

     It had taken Thorin all of an hour to rout every single hobbit from the vicinity, Lobelia herself being fended off at sword-point until she dropped the silverware and fled. Luckily none of Bella’s possessions had made it very far, and were quickly gathered back into the smial. The next day had seen what was once a peaceful Hobbit-hole succintly weaponized, and the dwarf had locked himself inside, raging at anyone who dared to breach the fence.

 

     “Won’t even let me come in and do the gardening, the brute. I’ve been takin care of that garden for practically my whole life!” their informant said with a sad sigh. “It’s just a shame to see it come to this.”

 

     By the end of the tale it had started to grow dark, and they had missed dinner. The hobbit excused himself back to his own home, absently patting his stomach, and Fili barely waited for him to disappear down the lane before he gathered his pack off the pony and started in towards the house. The others did the same, striding nonchalantly through the gate and up to the door.

 

     It was pitch black inside, and before their eyes could adjust something came roaring out of the dark hall towards them. Dwalin hadn’t spent his entire life training alongside the King for nothing though. In one smooth motion, he dropped his pack, anchored himself, and caught Thorin a solid blow to his stomach as he careened into the hall brandishing his axe. Thorin dropped loudly to the ground, winded and wheezing. Kili looked awestruck up at the guard.

 

          “What? I told ya, emotions make him stupid and reckless.” Dwalin snorted, looking down on his friend with disgust. “Didn’t even try and put up a decent guard.”

 

 

 

     By the time Thorin resurfaced, Balin and the rest were seated around kitchen table, enjoying a hot, if belated, meal. He stumbled in from where he had been propped on the couch and looked startled to find a spare place already set. Quietly he sat down and dug in, no one making any move to start up a conversation. The atmosphere of the room keyed up slowly until Balin finally set down his fork and cleared his throat, looking squarely at his King and comrade.

 

 

     Thorin beat him to the punch though. “How has she been doing? I’m assuming she did not hand the crown over to Fili, or she would be here instead of him; nor did she give it to my sister, for I would have been apprehended by half the guard instead of you lot.”

 

     Balin grudgingly nodded. “Aye, she’s chosen to stay and rule, and has been doing well with it. The people accepted her, and Erebor has been recovering and growing under her watchful eye.” He couldn’t help the small bit of pride that leaked into his voice.

 

          “So I was right then.” Thorin muttered. “It’s all been better leaving it to her. Everything is as it should be.”

 

          “No it’s not!” Kili shouted, rising from the table. He looked down on his uncle, fists clenched. “You had no right to be so selfish! You messed up, so you just decided to run away from all your problems, and leave Bella to clean up the mess, _yet again_.”

 

     Thorin was startled at the fire in the usually mirthful eyes of his nephew, and the sting of his words cut quickly.

 

          “She has done very well by the people of Erebor, even though they are not her people. She never wanted to be Queen, never wanted any of that. But she stayed, because she sticks by her word, and did her best. Bella faced suspicion and resistance from the very start, death threats and assassination attempts, literally a mountain of troubles braced upon her shoulders. She made herself stronger than she should ever have had to, all because you were too weak… And where were you? Living the shell of the life we stole her from, bottled up in her home with your hoard of imagined slights, woes and memories and emotions. She already had to face one dragon, Uncle. Don’t make her fight another just to get the peace she long ago earned.”

 

 

     The princeling breathed heavily into the silence that followed. Thorin spoke softly. “You remind me of Frerin.” Kili looked startled at the comparison.

 

          “He had the same overwhelming passion. Sometimes I wonder why I was the one who got to go on breathing and making a mess of things. He would have been a much better leader than I. As would you, as would Fili. I’m hardly the leader Erebor needs.”

 

     It was time for Balin to make his stand. “Whether you are worthy or not is hardly the question to be bothering over. What’s done is done, and you stepped up as the champion of your people. Yes, it hasn’t been a clear road, but I didn’t make that speech on our journey just to hear myself speak. You chose to go after a dream, to fight for something better for your people. And now that you’ve accomplished all that you hoped, are you really so ready to let it all go?”

 

      Balin looked steadily around the small circle of faces. “It is the way of history to bare all events, and let the scales balance. But stories are the meat and bread of a people, and no child wants to hear of all the ways their hero has failed. We look upon the greatness that has passed and measure ourselves short. But even if we are lacking, giving up is hardly going to make the situation any better.”

 

 

          “You really do need to come back,” Fili chipped in. “Even though Bella has been doing a great job as Queen, people cannot help but question her. You are King, whether you think you should be or not. Erebor needs you. And I think, even though she never says anything, that she needs you too. She let her hair grow back out, and hasn’t cut it at all, despite the fact that it obviously vexes her. Bella’s accomplished so much, and I think you owe it to her, and yourself, to come back. You can’t sit there and tell me this is what you wish out of life.”

 

     Thorin just stared hard at the scrubbed wood table. “And you, Dwalin? What sage advice do you have to impart?”

 

     The warrior just leaned back in his chair. “Me? I’ve got nothing wise to add. You’re an idiot, and when we return and the Queen discovers our ruse, we’ll have to tell her where you are, and she will carefully arrange for Erebor’s care and then ride out here and kick your ass nine ways to Gondor. And you’ll deserve it.”

 

     Thorin cracked a grim smile. “I suppose you are right. And it would be rude of me to put her through the trouble after all I’ve already done. Maybe she will be kinder to me if I bring some of her maps and books back for her.”

 

 

~Finis~


End file.
